


We Two Boys Together Clinging

by callmeclovis



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeclovis/pseuds/callmeclovis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reading too much Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg lead to this over sappy work about the growth of the relationship between Zach and Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Two Boys Together Clinging

“We two boys together clinging,

One the other never leaving,”

∙∙∙

It’s funny how being across the country can make you forget exactly how someone smells but not how they laugh. Well, mostly because that someone calls you constantly and still does that completely ridiculous thrown head back laugh even when he’s on the phone with you. Zach tried to explain the whole I cannot see you through the telephone phenomenon to Chris, but it somehow dissolved into a conversation about the importance of laughter in a world riddled with clubbed seals and as most of their conversations the beginning subject had been forgotten. He thumbed along the dog eared Allen Ginsberg poetry collection Chris had left last time he visited. Of course it was Allen Ginsberg, his thriving golden boy going through his own Beat rebellion against conformity and sexual repression. He opened the book to a random dog eared, highlighted page only to find Chris’s thoughts spiraling down the margins beside the likes of _Please Master_ , _Old Love Story,_ and _Howl_. He had left little bits of himself in New York, with Zach, here. Most of these mementos were forgotten socks in Zach’s bed sheets, food stains on borrowed clothes, and more than one pair of Ray-Bans. It was odd to come home and find cow milk in the refrigerator because he hadn’t finished the jug off before he left. Zach reached past it to grab his almond milk and sighed, only a few more months till filming started.

Zach can be across the country from him and yet it felt as if he was right beside him and all those other clichés his Berkeley professors tried to stomp out of him. They weren’t serial texters or even regulars with instant messaging, sometimes going weeks without those little digital messages. No, it wasn’t his constant presence. There was a distinguishable fingerprint Zach had left on his life, the way he took his coffee just slightly enlightened by Zach’s stupid soy milk, the new denim appreciation after a long quarrel about designer versus the likes of Lee’s, just very subtle things that had Zach right there with him. Chris was always the one calling, forgetting about how the concept of time zones worked that earned him an earful of mumbled curses and “do you know how early it is?” or more often than not how ridiculously late it is. Even though they were both pushing toward their late thirties, yes, there was drunk dialing. Mostly followed with Zach reprimanding Chris with “drunk dialing after your mid-twenties is just embarrassing Christopher” or justifying himself with “oh so are we complaining about me missing you now?” But Trek filming was starting up again and there hopefully wouldn’t be any calls waking him up in the middle of the night.  It wouldn’t be this hard anymore.

∙∙∙

“Up and down the roads going – North and South excursions making,

Power enjoying – elbows stretching – fingers clutching,”

∙∙∙

There was no item he wished to own more than the compass of Chris’s mind, no place he would rather explore. He could buy books, plane tickets, maps, and a little stamp on his hand marking his entrance into obscure locations all along the globe, but nothing could ever show him exactly how to navigate that bottomless well of his psyche. There was something inherently different about Chris and he supposed most people in love felt that way, but here he was nonetheless with an aching in his elbows to stretch his wingspan out in Chris’s mind. His fingers itched to pry sulci and trace gyri encased by impenetrable meninges. And he was starting to sound a little too much Sylar for his own liking but he couldn’t help that his brain functioned in figurative speech as if that was the only way he could comprehend this need for Chris. He settled on pressing a kiss to blossoming crow’s feet and an exposed forehead in the safety of his trailer, watching that mind turn bright cerulean to that Bombay sapphire slowly swimming down to the deep end of the p- fucking ocean. Filming was easy with Chris, despite how often he tried to tempt him into pizza night and perhaps his wingspan would have to explore the broadened shoulders of his lover when he had misplaced the compass to his mind.

Chris loved Zach’s trailer when they were two months into filming and he had been practically living in it on an alarmingly regular basis. Zach would never admit it, but there was nothing that displayed his character more than how that trailer looked after filming hit full swing. After two movies and now a third together Chris had learned to appreciate this little excursion into the North and South of Zachary Quinto’s mind. His home was always immaculate because that’s what homes were supposed to be, hotel rooms were messy because you’re living out of the top layer of a suitcase, but a trailer was in that weird limbo of I live here sometimes and sometimes I don’t. The clutter that piled around the place were things to keep Zach’s mind busy, more accurately his hands so he didn’t itch where ought not to be itched when he still had to look presentable for the cameras. There was something to be said of the objects that could hold his attention for more than a few days and thus Chris nosed around through piles of books from Proust to Thoreau and even once, he swears to god, Fight Club. At least that explained the crush on Brad Pitt. It was knowing what kind of candy he would sacrifice his training for by the multitude of wrappers, which author remained at the top of the book pile, and the little things no one thinks to say when they contemplate who they are. Zach, in all his obsession of authenticity, would never bring up his affinity for Dahl in his articulation of himself.

∙∙∙

“Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving.

No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving,

threatening,”

∙∙∙

Chris had an amusing way to power down from being in front of the cameras all day on press tour that included shutting out the world and locking himself away with room service. Which incidentally didn’t settle well with Zach, seeing as they were in Berlin and Chris was allowed to stay and cower in his room with his rented movies or books in his own weird bibliophile way in London or Japan but this was Berlin. Things were said and done in Berlin that he couldn’t say in the daylight of anywhere be it New York or Los Angeles. Berlin was in some ways a bridge between the life they lived and the life they could have. They always were inseparable. He loved the feeling of being together when they could not elsewhere, visiting clubs they had visited before on the last two press tours and the ones they had yet to explore. Fearless kisses in crowds that were too buzzed to notice just how far down Zach’s hands were on Chris’s body, drinking until they were stumbling back into a cab with their arms around each other’s shoulders and tipping the driver way too much to not talk about whatever happened in that backseat. It was probable that hangovers were less awful in Berlin, with Chris at his side but mostly it was the city. The city he enjoyed almost as much as his beloved New York and he couldn’t help but want to share that affinity with Chris especially since last time he was here he was sharing it with Miles. Miles of contemplation as it were that brought weeks of the silent treatment even though they both knew very well Iris was with Chris in New Zealand. Apparently they were still in middle school at that point in their lives, and who’s to say they weren’t? They were childish and obscene and as one thoroughly pissed off interviewer expressed “probably on some drugs.” This love he felt for Chris was of the jealous first love brand with stupid snapchats (even though it had taken him ages to convince Chris to get one) and the meshing together convex to concave as if their bodies had never known anything but each other in that fumbling desperation and giddiness.

Let it never be said that Chris hasn’t made sacrifices for Zach, or used a double negative. He grumbled and let Zach pull him out into Berlin, their home away from home. In certain ways he forgot how much he loved it here, the slow steading breathing of the city around them. They treated celebrities differently in Europe, it’s mellow and even if there was still a heavy presence in the days of the press tour, it was nothing compared to Los Angeles or even the laid back New York atmosphere. The ever present collaboration of the public and the press was something that he could not forget but the absence of the sea of paps was nice. At least he could get a coffee here without it making it into the tabloids. It was freeing to an extent to feel a little more nameless in the large city, to be near Zach in his natural habitat of knowing everything about everything and leading him around. Which he was completely okay with handing over the reins to an overzealous xenophile. They bummed cigarettes off of strangers, both of them too far into quitting to carry a pack but the overall theme of the night was getting to their heads. They were too old for this type of gallivanting but here they were, soldiering on, and if they returned to their hotel room before they had their previous visits neither of them minded.

∙∙∙

“Misers, menials, priests alarming, air breathing, water drinking, on

the turf or the sea-beach dancing,”

∙∙∙

Zach was trying to keep a calm façade as he waited for Chris to get it all out, he was present purely for emotional support and hand holding needs. Chris had decided on a method similar to his own in coming out but Zach was sure that the experiences would only be similar in that respect. In his own coming out article it was still about other things as well, not purely focused around the fact he was gay whereas Chris’s was going to be completely centered around it. Really, Zach couldn’t see how anyone thought that Chris was entirely straight. His adamant dodging of the exclusive use of the female pronoun game was strong, and all the other evidence was so disgustingly stereotypical of gay men that Zach felt more than a little uncomfortable thinking it. Not that Chris was gay, no, they had been over the entire bisexual conversation. Which at first Zach didn’t entire take to, it wasn’t something that was widely accepted among his community and something that he had never really encountered before. In the beginning days of whatever this had become, dating, loving, this dance they had been doing since 2009, it had been hard to fit Chris into this gay dream that Zach had established. Maybe it was that underlying feeling that he would go back to girls if he didn’t pledge himself to the same sex, or maybe it was just that Zach is a complete asshole with grade A abandonment issues. Either way, it didn’t matter now, they were sitting together with Chris rubbing his collarbone under his shirt in that annoying way he does when he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands. Zach wanted to grab it and take it into his hand but if Chris wanted to be a clingy octopus he would definitely let Zach know. He was fully prepared to hide for the next few weeks until the paps lost interest at least a little. He knew the misers and menials would be out for blood on Chris’s behalf and perhaps on his own as well.

Being in an interview where Zach wasn’t hogging all the talk time was weird, weird as in Chris actually had to do the talking and jesus was this really happening? He was talking, about being bisexual and he knew that all everyone would be saying is Christopher Whitelaw Pine is gay. Gay, as if the sex of who he was partnered with defined his sexuality. In a way, he guessed, it did. If he had ended up with a girl perhaps he wouldn’t have felt a need to come out and would have continued to live an unauthentic lifestyle as Zach had so eloquently, condescendingly, and douchebaggingly put it. Not that he was wrong. Chris just knew that TMC, Twitter, magazines, and practically everyone would have GAY plastered all over it and fuck he wasn’t gay. He was definitely not gay, he may be enjoying a dick up his ass but not not not gay. Very bisexual and he knew what had happened with other men in the media that had come out as bi, he knew that everyone closed their eyes, plugged their ears and basically chanted “la la la I can’t hear you, you’re gay,” at them. It would be the same for him, and he had already had that battle with Zach. Hell, he had had that battle with all the men he had dated in one way or another. From college boyfriends to more serious meet-the-parents partners, every guy had been on some spectrum of worry that Chris wasn’t really playing for their team, was only experimenting, or they were going to find him in bed with some girl. Because all bisexuals cheat, right? Not only was he battling the stereotype within the community he found himself sharing with Zach, but he was battling labels in the media as well. All he really wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed with his books and forget the whole mess of coming out. He felt a little better knowing Zach was there, and with he had opted for his thick rimmed frames instead of his contacts that at least gave him something to fiddle with when they started to descend down his nose. God, the backlash from this was going to be terrible.

∙∙∙

“Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,

Fulfilling our foray.”

∙∙∙

It died down, as everything always did, but before that it was horrendous. As in, having to call in favors to get groceries and walk Noah and Skunk horrendous. Joe was an asset that without whom Zach would have been lost in the sea of flashing cameras or god forbid angry fanboys insisting Kirk and Spock were definitely not gay for each other. Paramount PR had been riding their asses hard since the article came out, or Chris came out, either one. Always glad to be reminded that their entire lives revolved around Trek even after their contracts had ended and they had moved on, not that Chris had exactly moved on from Paramount with his Jack Ryan contract. Things had somehow ironed themselves out, and they were left in bed realizing that this was their new life, out and together. Getting used to Chris being out was odd, seeing as most of their arguments had revolved around him not being out or not being secure in that. Things were oddly peaceful and this sort of dependency had begun to build up from their time battling the media prying into their personal lives. Although he had thought it impossible he began to spend a little less time on his precious iPhone due to too many calls and a slew of texts, and it had given them a kind of seclusion, a vacation at home just for them in Chris’s home. As it slowed down and they started to work again it was odd how easily domestic they became in juggling their lives.

After the shock wore off and people started to act somewhat normal again, Chris began receiving fanmail and yes it was easy to focus on the bad ones, but as Zach constantly reminded him there was at least ten good for every bad one. The overwhelming support came from every little source fans could get ahold of, from the dark depths of Tumblr whose enthusiasm seemed a little too overzealous, to Zach’s Twitter, and of course the fanmail. He had kept a few select letters in his bedside drawer from fans that had seemed to be majorly affected by his coming out in astoundingly positive ways. He might have tried to convince Zach once or twice to run away to hide out in the far reaches of an unnamed land but Zach had shot him down not only once but all sixteen times Chris had brought it up. He had stopped even dignifying the thought with an actual comment and just groaned when Chris had brought it up. It was definitely a bonding experience and finding out just how long they could stand to be in the same house or same room which was a surprising long time compared to his older relationships which Chris took as a good sign. It was just too agreeable, the easy flow between their stuff being shared between homes and both of them not really bothered with the fact they had a few different places to live in between Chris’s home and Zach’s home.

Really though, most of it was that through their lives they had never felt so content with another human. They had found the easy tide of each other’s hands and needs and desires, somewhere between drowning and swimming in the push and pull of each other’s hearts. The security that appealed to Zach and the unquestionable loyalty that appealed to Chris had the whispered words of forever between them growing into a permanent promise wrought in silver bands. That had commenced with more hopefully teasing threats to Chris from Joe than Zach would have preferred and more tears from both moms than either boy could really handle along with a firm hug from Robert. They had fulfilled the foray of their love with the lives that had intermingled with theirs.

Restless eyes and eager hands followed, belonging solely to each other.


End file.
